Pokey
by Rrund
Summary: Heath arrives at the Barkley's.


_This story is a bit AU from the canon. Its 1870 Tom Barkley died in 1869. Jarrod is 32, Nick is 28, Heath is 20, Audra is 19 and Eugene is 18._

**Pokey**

**By**

**Beverly**

"All right" Nick rocked back on his heels a bit looking up at the mounted cowboy with distaste. "Put your horse in the far paddock and see McCall over in the bunkhouse, he's the foreman. He'll get you settled."

The young, blond cowboy made no reply. He nodded his head in acknowledgement and moved his horse back from the Barkley front porch with an almost imperceptible movement of his reins. The little, black mare dropped her head, backed and turned without hesitation. She wasn't real big, Nick thought, but damn she was broke. Still, he wasn't happy about this boy. He didn't need any more hands and he sure didn't want to be hiring with all that riff raff hanging around the area waiting to be hired by the railroad.

"Thanks, brother Nick," Jarrod said coming up behind Nick and putting his arm around his shoulders. "He did me a service today. Raced the railroad up to the south pasture crossing and won $1500 off Crown for me."

"RACED THE RAILROAD," Nick shouted "GREAT. IF HE'S NOT A HIRED GUN HE'S A LUNATIC."

Jarrod, unperturbed after almost thirty years of his younger brother's dramatics, just squeezed Nick's shoulder and steered him back toward the front door Gene was holding open for the two men. "And what are you smirking at little brother?" Nick asked as he passed his smiling younger brother at the door.

"Don't know what kind of a gun fighter he would be Nick. He didn't even have a side arm," Gene said, falling in behind his two older brothers as they entered the house. Nick made no comment aside from a disgruntled snort.

McCall stood on the porch of the bunkhouse looking up at the young, blond cowboy sitting easily on the black mare. "Nick, huh." McCall tipped his hat back on his head with his finger and examined the cowboy and his horse more carefully.

The mare was small for her rider but well kept. Too many of the drifters coming through looking for work rode their horses into the ground with no more thought for the beasts than they had for any of their other equipment. The Barkleys kept good stock and kept them well. At least this boy looked like he knew how to take care of his equipment. His horse and gear were all clean and well cared for. Actually, the mare looked like she had been eating a lot more regularly than her rider who looked drawn and tired while the mare looked fit and glossy.

"I'm McCall. You got a name?" McCall finally asked when it became apparent the cowboy wasn't going to say anything.

"Heath," the youth said with a soft southern drawl.

"Well Heath, once you get yourself a couple of remounts you can put your mare in that paddock across the way there. We keep all the working stock in there. The remuda is in that meadow past the working stock. You should ride out there and pick yourself out a couple more horses. Turn 'em out with your mare. Every rider keeps three mounts, Barkleys supply the extra horses," McCall said, nodding his head to the north toward the remount meadow. "It's a big pasture you'll probably need your mare to catch anything worth riding in there." He smiled at the cowboy.

This was generally the most interesting part of a new hire. Which horses he came out of the remount pasture leading. There were about thirty or forty horses kept in there the number fluctuating depending upon the time of year. Some cowboys couldn't catch a horse or even find the herd in the 200-acre pasture. Others came out with horses they couldn't ride on their best day, let alone get a days work astride. This boy didn't look like that was going to be a problem.

McCall had noted the horsehide lariat as soon as the boy rode up. He hadn't seen a rawhide lariat in years. The hemp rope's ease of use and care had made them the choice of most cowboys. The hemp was stiffer so the ropes were shorter but most of the hands McCall had seen couldn't catch a cow more then ten feet away anyhow, so it hardly mattered. If this boy could use that long rawhide rope he would bear watching.

McCall went in the bunkhouse to get himself a cup of coffee and sat down on the porch to wait for the return of the cowboy, curious to see what he had found in the remount herd for himself.

Not surprising he rode back leading Pokey and Sam. Pretty much what McCall had figured, a good eye for a horse at any rate. He watched him care for his mare and spend a few minutes handling the two new horses before he turned all three out with the remounts. Then carrying his saddle and other gear the cowboy walked across the dirt trail to the bunkhouse shed. Ten minutes later he stepped up on the porch carrying his saddlebags and rifle.

"I figure there's a story about the bay," Heath said to McCall leaning back against the porch roof support.

McCall laughed. "Yeah, he's a looker ain't he," McCall said, responding to the unasked question.

"Yup. Figure there's a reason a horse like that is sitting in a remount herd," Heath said in his soft drawl.

The two men remained silent for a few minutes admiring the beautiful, bay stallion as he trotted across the pasture to join up with the rest of the working herd under a stand of cottonwoods. The big horse's gait was so smooth; he appeared to float as he trotted across the meadow.

"Yeah. We call him Pokey" McCall said, taking mercy on the kid since he had had the good manners to ask. The last three men to take the horse out of the remount herd had just assumed everyone was too stupid to know what a fine looking horse he was. Had assumed, McCall figured, that they were pulling one over on the rest of the hands. This boy at least knew the big horse was too good to be true.

"Pokey huh," Heath said, pulling the makings out of his vest pocket and beginning the process of rolling himself a smoke.

"Yeah. Tom Barkley. The boss's father, who was killed last year, he bought the horse when he was down in Mexico looking at some mining property the family owns. Guess he saw him there and thought he looked like a good one," McCall explained. "No one ever could get that horse to do much of anything. He just mopes along. Can't hardly be bothered to get out of his own way."

McCall stood up and tossed the dregs of his coffee into the yard in front of the porch. "The other one, we call him Sam. He's a nice horse. Young and inexperienced, only rough broke, but nice makings there. You want to take Pokey back and swap him out you can do it tomorrow. Come on inside. I'll get you a bunk and some dinner."

McCall opened the door for Heath who remained on the porch for a moment, watching the big stallion in the fading light. Finally, giving McCall a half smile, he followed him inside.

The next morning McCall missed the new hand at the big boisterous breakfast in the bunkhouse. When the hands all trooped out to catch their horses for the morning's work, McCall passed Heath headed back into the bunkhouse, his horse already saddled and tied to the corral fence. "You're going to need a second horse for the afternoon. You'll be riding in the boss's crew, gathering pairs," McCall told him.

"I'll get right on it boss, just going to grab a biscuit from Cookie," the young, blond told him. McCall nodded. With his horse already saddled and ready to go the boy was ahead of the rest of the crew.

Heath spent the morning on Sam, riding out with Nick's crew in the big South Meadow pasture gathering the cow/calf pairs. This was slow tedious work as most of these cows had two and three month old calves. These youngsters were frequently too stupid to figure out where their mama's had gone once they moved 30 feet from their usual grazing area. Mamas who wouldn't normally mind moving, weren't going anywhere without their babies. Since half the time the mamas couldn't remember which calf was theirs and were always sure they could find the baby the last place they had been, it was a long hot day for the cowboys trying to assemble the herd. It was also work that wore out horses fast. All of the riders had ponyed out a spare horse, so after the noon lunch break the morning horses were turned out to graze while the fresh horses were saddled for the afternoon.

Nick had been pleased with the new hand's work in the morning. He handled his inexperienced horse with tact and got about as much work out of the poorly conditioned horse as anyone could have without wearing him into the ground. Nick saw that when he could the new hand gave the horse a break and didn't feel like he had to gallop when a jog would do the job. The boy worked effectively and Nick figured by the end of the morning he had probably brought in more cows then any other rider that day. That, in spite of the fact, he wasn't familiar with the ground and shouldn't have known where the mossy old mamas liked to hide their calves.

McCall had told him the new guy had picked Pokey out of the remuda. Nick determined to keep an eye on him. What was his name? Something funny. Oh yeah, Heath. He'd keep an eye on Heath. Pokey wasn't worth much but he was damned if he would have some yahoo putting the quirt and spurs to him for no good purpose. Nick had figured he would just save that old piece of crow bait until either he or Jarrod had a kid. Pokey would make a great kid's horse. Good ground manners and not enough ambition to get even the wildest kid into trouble. Disappointed, as Nick was that the beautiful bay hadn't lived up to his looks, he wasn't going to have the horse abused to save some boy's vanity.

Nick was disappointed after the noon break to see the new guy, Heath, on his little black mare. He had looked forward to watching him try to move around in the brush on the big bay lump of useless. Nick found himself watching the little mare with admiration. If the cowboy had gotten some work done in the morning it was nothing to what he and the mare did in the afternoon. She was fit and broke and very cowy*. Nick found himself sitting on his horse a couple of times just watching the pair work as the little mare cut and dodged, keeping some stupid calf hooked up with its mother.

So maybe Jarrod was right once in a while. Nick sure hoped he didn't ask about the new hand. He'd hate to have to tell Jarrod the kid was about the best wrangler he had ever seen on a horse.

At six o'clock, Nick called it a day. They had gathered about 300 pairs, a good day's work and plenty for the first herd. They moved the herd into the big holding pen for the night and headed back into the main ranch. They had gathered about a quarter of the meadow and could brand these in the morning before gathering again further north. Nick didn't like moving more than 2 or 300 of these young calves at a time; there was just too much chance of losing calves in the confusion. He would send each small herd up into the mountains as it was formed and branded.

Nick left the new guy and Esteven Lopez to bring in the remounts while the rest of the wranglers headed back to the ranch. He was pleased to see that the two wranglers had the horses rounded up and moving at a quiet pace and had them into their pasture only fifteen minutes behind the returning hands.

McCall ate dinner in the bunkhouse to keep an eye on the new hand making sure he got along with everyone and wasn't going to be a problem. No point in bringing in some troublemaker to an otherwise fairly stable group of hands.

Far from a trouble maker the new kid seemed very quiet, almost shy. McCall never heard him say a word, he just responded to the comments of the other hands with a lopsided half smile or nod of his head. As soon as the evening meal finished the kid left the bunkhouse carrying his rawhide lariat.

A few minutes after he left McCall rose with his last cup of coffee and wandered out on to the porch where a couple of hands sat shooting the breeze and smoking. "Where the new guy go?" McCall asked Tyler Lindsey who was sitting on the steps repairing a damaged bridle.

"Not sure, boss. Last I saw, he was headed toward the pasture," Lindsey said, nodding his head toward the pasture where the working horses were kept.

McCall nodded his thanks to Lindsey and wandered down the steps and over toward the pasture fence. In the gathering darkness, it was difficult to see more then a few hundred yards into the field and McCall wanted to see what the cowboy was doing out there.

When he got to the pasture fence, he found Esteven Lopez leaning against the fence smoking and watching the new guy and Pokey. The new cowboy had tied his rawhide lariat to Pokey's halter and was working him around in a big circle, just making the horse jog in a big circle. McCall had never seen the like. Now why would someone want a horse to jog around him in a big circle? Every time the horse tried to speed up or slow down the cowboy would give a little flick with the bite of the lariat and speed him up, or slow him down with a little pressure on the rope. McCall stood watching for about half an hour as the horse jogged first one way in a circle and then the other. About as interesting as watching paint dry McCall thought, but still he watched. He had the feeling he was seeing something important. He just couldn't figure out what. He knew he had never seen the like of it.

At the end of about half an hour the cowboy called the horse into the center of the circle and stood there with the horse's head nearly touching his chest. The two stood that way for a long time, the horse's ears forward, all of his attention on the quiet cowboy. The pair were too far away for McCall to hear but he assumed the young, blond wrangler was talking to the horse. He sure had the horse's attention. Finally, as the darkness thickened McCall shook his head at himself and walked home toward his little house on the south side of the bunkhouse. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe the kid was some sort of horse whisperer. He had heard about the magicians who could tame a horse in an hour or make an outlaw a useful beast with a few magic words. Wouldn't that beat all!

The next morning when McCall came out of his house to head over to the bunkhouse he saw three of the Mexican wranglers leaning against the pasture fence and watching the cowboy and Pokey in the field. McCall wandered over to see what was happening.

The young cowboy had the horse cantering around in the circle now. Only this time the cowboy was sitting on the horse and Esteven Lopez was holding the long rawhide rein in the middle of the circle, turning to keep his eye on the horse and rider.

Heath sat still on the horse's bareback his hands resting on his thighs moving easily with the horse. After ten minutes of circling the blond cowboy shifted his weight leaned back on the horse and brought the big bay to a stop without a word. Then touching him gently with one heel and shifting his weight, he turned the horse and leaned forward and started him moving again. The horse settled into a lope, his neck arched and his weight balanced well on his forehand. McCall hadn't known the horse could trot, let alone lope. After another twenty minutes of riding, the cowboy vaulted effortlessly to the ground and removed the halter from the horse and let him loose in the pasture.

McCall watched the horse following the cowboy, his head nearly touching his back as Heath and Esteven walked out of the pasture talking quietly. As the two cowboys approached the gate, the three other Mexican wranglers joined them. McCall followed them all into the bunkhouse, listening to the young Mexicans talking excitedly to the wrangler in Spanish. He noticed the cowboy seemed to understand them just fine although he said very little, just smiled his crooked smile at their excitement.

McCall again assigned the new wrangler to Nick's crew, knowing the boss would still want to keep an eye on the new man. Heath rode out with the same two horses as the previous day, leaving Pokey grazing happily in the pasture.

Branding was one of the wranglers' favorite jobs. It allowed the cowboys to show their roping skills in friendly competition as they roped the calves and pulled the youngsters over to the fire where they were quickly flipped, branded and released to find their mamas again. Not unexpectedly, Nick found that the new wrangler was fast and accurate with his rope, picking up even the wiliest calf without any apparent effort. When Heath was afoot catching the calves for the branders he was quick on his feet and unafraid of the hard work.

As soon as they had all the calves branded, Nick sent four of the wranglers to take the 300 pairs up into the mountain meadows while the rest of the cowboys began gathering again for the next day's branding. Nick continued to be impressed with the new hand. He worked hard and said almost nothing. He took good care of his horses and was easy on the cattle he worked, treating them as if they were his own. Nick guessed he'd have to tell Jarrod the new hand was a good one.

McCall found himself down at the pasture again after dinner along with half a dozen other hands watching the blond cowboy and the big bay horse. The cowboy had a saddle on Pokey now but was still riding with no bridle. He moved the horse in big circles at a canter, stopping him easily and spinning him on his haunches to change direction with no guidance beyond his legs and the lead rope on his halter. The horse responded quickly, well balanced and collected. McCall found himself standing with a small smile on his face, enjoying the show of horsemanship.

Watching the young, blond wrangler and horse in the early evening dusk reminded McCall of the first time he had seen the horse. Tom Barkley had been leading him. The bay had been cavorting about Tom's horse, excited by all of the ranch activity around him, prancing, his neck bowed, picking up his feet almost before they touched the ground. Not a horseman on the ranch but had stopped to watch him pass.

McCall shook his head ruefully. The next week Tom Barkley was dead, shot down by assassins and as if in mourning that horse had never again looked like he was worth spit.

It had been weeks before anyone even remembered the big bay and when Nick had finally saddled and bridled him, all the horse had done was shake his head and back and finally stand, shaking all over, refusing to move. Not a man to give up easily Nick had tried him over and over but the horse seemed to be all beautiful body and no interest in working with a rider. Supposedly trained by some great Mexican horse trainer, the horse was useless for any kind of work or even riding. Now, watching the young rider and horse moving effortlessly across the pasture McCall wondered what they had all missed.

Finally, the boy rode the horse over to the gate easily steering him with his legs and the halter lead line. McCall watched him lay the line against the horse's neck to turn him with hardly a touch. Once at the fence the boy vaulted from the horse's back, and removed his tack and hung his saddle on the fence near the gate. As he began to brush the bay's back where the saddle had been resting the rest of the hands turned and headed back over to the bunkhouse for their evening poker game. McCall walked down the fence and stood near the bay watching the cowboy groom him.

"Never seen him go like that," McCall finally said after a few minutes. "Some kind of training job there."

The cowboy remained quiet for so long McCall wasn't sure he was going to answer. Finally, in a soft, almost southern drawl the boy said, "He was all trained. He'd just forgotten." He glanced at McCall over the bay's wide back and gave that lopsided grin that McCall had come to look for instead of words.

"You ready to ride him? The boss will be surprised to see him" McCall said as the boy turned back from releasing the horse into the pasture.

"Don't want to do much with him. He's pretty soft," the boy said, stroking the big horse's face softly from where the horse rested his forehead against the boy's chest. "Don't think he's had much work."

"Well, sure hasn't had any here in the past year. But he must be four years old should have had quite a bit before Mr. Barkley got him" McCall argued.

"Nah," the boy said. "See the brand. He's from Rancho Encinar de los Reyes near Hermosillo."

McCall looked at the big funny brand on the bay's flank. "I knew the boss got him from some ranch in Mexico. He hoped to use him on some of our mares. Thought he would improve our stock, add size and stamina. But when we got to working him he just didn't show anything" McCall said referring the bay's lack of ambition.

"Don't think he'd ever been bitted," Heath said. "Would have started him in a jacquima. Bit would have put him off. He wouldn't like the bit" he finished almost to himself.

"What?" McCall asked.

"They don't break horses the way you all do here," the boy explained. "Takes them years to finish a horse at that ranch. They ride them for the first year or so with no bit."

McCall didn't know if he was more astonished to hear about riding horses without steering or to hear the young cowboy string that many words together in one sentence. He didn't think that until this moment he had heard the boy say more then five words at one go. Now though as the boy stroked the big horse's face he thought this was a whole different person from the taciturn youngster who had ridden up to the bunkhouse at the beginning of the week.

This confident, knowledgeable horseman again reminded him of Tom Barkley. Tom Barkley the night he had arrived home with the big bay. He and McCall had stood out in the home corral for half an hour or more watching the big bay while the boss talked about what that horse would do for their breeding program. He'd had the same confidence this boy had about what he said. And there was something else as they stood in the encroaching darkness and the boy gave the horse a final pat and turned toward the gate, hoisting his saddle from the fence. Something about this moment reminded McCall so much of Tom Barkley that he felt himself almost choke.

McCall had known Tom Barkley for 25 years and supposed he would always miss him; always see him in the small moments of the day. McCall leaned back against the fence catching his breath, watching the young man walk toward the barn with his saddle over his back. He would probably always see bits of Tom Barkley in others; always miss him. McCall shook his head sadly and headed across the yard to his own small house and his waiting wife.

The next day was more gathering and more branding with the new boy again working with Nick's gang while McCall and the other hands continued to clean out irrigation ditches in the peach orchards. As the hands finished for the day, Nick rode up to the new cowboy and stopped his big chocolate colored horse beside Heath's little black mare. "I'll have you go up to the mountain meadow with the herd in the morning. Give you a chance to see a bit more of the ranch," Nick ordered.

The blond nodded his head in assent and then, touching his finger to the brim of his hat, turned and followed the other riders back to the ranch. Nick sat his big horse and watched him ride away. McCall had said the boy had done wonders with Pokey but didn't want to do too much work on him yet. Nick figured this would give the boy a chance to get the horse out. Nick was curious to see if he had really been able to get the big horse going. Boy sure didn't have much to say for himself, he thought as he watched him ride away, but he could sit a horse. Reminded him of his father the way he moved with the horse, as if they were one animal, as if there was no way the horse would ever be where his rider didn't want him to be.

The next morning as Nick rode over to join the hands in front of the bunkhouse he was pleased to see the boy had Pokey saddled and ready to go. "What's that you got on him?" He demanded, as he got closer nodding to the funny bridle with no bit.

Looking up at his boss from where he was standing near his horse's off side the boy said, "It's a jacquima, what the Texans call a bosal." So saying the boy vaulted easily into the saddle never touching the stirrups, his weight so evenly distributed that the saddle never shifted on the horse's back. A nice move Nick thought as he examined the funny headstall on the horse. It had no bit just a big knot under the horse's jaw. The reins were an old piece of rope tied off at the big knot under the horse's chin.

Nick started to say something about the stupid get up and then hesitated as he met the boy's cool blue eyes, almost daring him to comment. Shrugging Nick nodded to Barrett "Let's get to work," and the men mounted and turned their horses down the dirt trail toward the south meadow and another day of cows and heat and work.

Nick rode toward the back of the gang so he could watch the big bay and the new man. The horse loped along easily with the other horses, his neck arched and covering the ground in a beautiful balanced lope. He was a beauty, Nick thought for at least the thousandth time. Suddenly he was glad he hadn't gelded the horse last summer when he thought he was worthless. Maybe, just maybe? Wait though, time to see later. Any horse would go in a herd of other horses. Wait and see what he'll do when he needs to get some work done.

An hour riding brought the hands back to the working corrals and Nick gave out the work assignments. He sent twelve of the hands off to begin gathering again and told Barrett, Lopez, Ortiz and the new man to take the 220 pairs from the previous day up into the mountain meadows.

Relaxing back on Coco, Nick watched the boy move the big bay into the corral and begin working his way around the cows to start them out the gate. Protesting at the disturbance and reluctant to move the cows gradually all stood up and began moving away from the cowboy and his horse headed toward the gate.

Suddenly, a big old mama cow decided she had forgotten her calf and turned to cut around the horse back to her bed ground. Nick watched in amazement as the big horse dropped his head and rolled back on his hindquarters to head the old cow back into the herd. Sliding on his front end, the horse turned the cow once and when she tried to cut around him on the other side he rolled back on his hindquarters again and charged over to head her back. The boy sat deep in the saddle, making no move to direct the horse, the old piece of rope long and loose on the horse's neck.

Nick had seen a lot of horses turn cows in his life, but he had never seen anything like this. This horse had done it with no direction from his rider all on his own. This must be what his father had seen in Mexico. This was what he had been so excited about when he had sent Nick the wire from Hermosillo saying he had a horse that was going to change their whole breeding program. Nick sat looking at the horse with a big smile on his face. My God, he thought a year after his death his father could still amaze him, could still help him run their ranch.

The cows came out of the corral and as a group made a break back into the meadow, anxious to head back to their sleeping ground. The big bay broke from the gate at a dead run, sliding on his haunches as he reached the herd leaders and turned them all north cutting back and forth to turn any stragglers. Nick almost laughed with delight.

"Hey, Boy," he called waving the blond over when he looked up at him. The kid touched his heals to the horse and cantered over to Nick.

"My word, boy what did you do to that horse? How did you train him in four days?" Nick asked the smile still on his face.

"Was already trained. I just reminded him a' what he knew" the boy said rubbing the horse along his neck under the big black mane.

"Guess he's going to need a new name" Nick said now laughing with delight. "He's not so Pokey any more. I can see where that horse is going to do this ranch some real good."

The boy nodded to him, a small half smile on his face, unable to hide his pleasure at the horse. He had ridden some fine horses in his time, but nothing like this big bay. He had known once he got him going well, he wouldn't be riding him for long. Ranch hands didn't ride horses like this, but even knowing that, he had been unable to resist the horse. A man might ride a horse like this once or twice in his life if he was lucky. He had been lucky.

"I'll take him back to the ranch and get another horse," Heath said, happy for the horse. No one, man or horse, likes to be less then he's able, Heath thought to himself.

"No, no," Nick said shaking his head. "You keep riding him. We're going to want to put some mares to him, but for now he's yours, boy." Nick smiled at the kid. "And good job boy, thanks."

The boy looked up at Nick with a surprised half smile on his face. Then he nodded and with an almost imperceptible movement of the old piece of rope in his left hand turned the horse away and back toward the herd of cattle. The horse moved effortlessly from a walk into a lope after the departing herd. Need to change that horse's name, Nick thought. The way he's charging around here now heading cattle, can't call him Pokey any more.

* Cowy is a term often used by cutting horse trainers/riders/fanciers to refer to horse that has an instinctive desire to head and turn cows. The term is used more widely to refer to any animal with a desire and ability to work cattle and instinctive understand of the work.


End file.
